during the night. That helped, not only his legs but keeping him awake. Loni was asleep in the back seat. In mid sentence telling him for the fifth time how frightened she was being out in the desert with rattlesnakes crawling around, she’d conked out. Carver had let her sleep. There was a limit to his own stamina, and he’d need her to be alert when he could no longer stay awake.
The road had been relatively quiet during the night; he was pretty sure the ambulance had not come through. The map had been unfolded several times. He knew he was gambling; they could have gone through Phoenix and approached Sedona from the south. The sky was brightening over the red walls of the canyon. If they didn’t come through by nightfall he’d go look around Sedona for the ambulance.
He’d picked a location just north of Sedona where his car was off the road, and he had a long stretch of road, not to the north where he’d only see headlights, but to the south where he might glimpse a lighted license plate. He’d purchased a pair of field glasses in Phoenix and studied the bigger vehicles as they went past.
He was weighing the benefits of further surveillance against his brain’s need for sleep. The one thing he needed to be sure of was the solid reasoning of the organ he most prized in himself. He had taken his fame as an All-American end at Harvard almost for granted, a position today played by sleek and fast wide receivers and big, strong blockers. He’d been both strong and fast. But so were those he played against. What gave him his edge was his mind. It kept him a fraction of a second ahead of them, and that was all he’d needed. That and a determination - some called it arrogance - to succeed in whatever he did. No, not just succeed, dominate. With Wally, life’s fruits were not something hoped for, they were expected, because he had the better mind, and worked at keeping it sharp. Sharper than anyone’s. Except maybe Hudson. In this boy, he’d met his match. He was family, even though Sylvia had died. Now there was Cilla. Street-fighter Cilla. And Carver knew that Hudson would give up his life for this new light, that until recently had shined brightly in his household. And someone’s life might just have to be lost. He glanced in the rear seat. Loni was snoring softly.
The morning traffic was starting. If the ambulance had driven straight through, it would have come by during the night. If they’d stopped someplace to sleep, they wouldn’t get here until afternoon. So perhaps he had a window of six or seven hours when he could turn off his mind. He was near exhaustion, and if he didn’t keep thinking efficiently, an old man and a young girl would be no match for an organization that had little difficulty operating on either coast.
A larger vehicle came behind several compacts. Carver raised his field glasses. The follower was white; he sat up straighter. As it sped by he could see it was indeed an ambulance, but with no lettering on the side. Washington plates! That’s what they spent the extra hours on, finding someone to paint out the words `Thurston Ambulance’. He turned on the engine and pulled out into the road after them. The sudden movement woke Loni.
“What?...what’s happened?”
“The ambulance.”
She slid over into the front seat with a flashing of bare legs. Wally noted, with not completely detached interest, that they were good-looking legs but not as athletic as Cilla’s. He allowed the ambulance a long lead. There was only the one road, and there was no reason to risk their car being seen. They might later need it to be unobtrusive, and suspicions might be aroused if someone remembered where they saw it. He closed in on the outskirts of Sedona, then dropped back as the white vehicle turned off at a road marked Boynton Canyon, and stopped as it turned into a narrow country road.
“Why are we stopping?”
“We walk.”
“But I don’t have boots, and the snakes...”
“Right. Stay in the car.” Wally set off down the little road, leaving an uncomfortable girl combating the conflicting decisions of staying alone in the car for God knows how long - Carver hadn’t shared any plans with her - or walking unprotected through a valley of vermin.
Not a day for the beach, thought Cilla, or a tan. But, feeble as it was, it was enough excuse to get her out where she could look for ways to escape. First she’d had to do something about her hair; a scarf could no longer be justified. She found scissors in an upstairs bathroom and flushed the cut hairs down the toilet. She scowled at the mirror, tried to even the sides. She’d never cut her hair herself, and the inexperience showed. Until last fall, the strands reached to her waist, when they weren’t in a tight bun. The hell, it would have to do.
She’d taken a blanket and told Dora she was going a little distance from the house since she had no bathing suit and would be taking her outer clothes off to absorb the Arizona sun. Dora, having commented on her paleness gave reluctant approval. The battered white outdoor thermometer hanging in the back yard read fifty-five, and a chilly breeze tugged at her blouse as she climbed a small hillock behind the stucco ranch. At least one of them would be watching her from the house. While everyone was still playing the game of FBI protection, suspicion wasn’t far beneath the surface. She studied the house as she climbed. She’d been foolish to think she’d be able to learn more about the organization on the trip down. If she’d had a week, maybe. But she had to get Hudson and herself away
From the top of the knoll there were only scrub bushes and no trees in sight so she could clearly make out the paved road they’d come in on. Would Wally be able to interpret the message on the dressing table? Was it still there when he got back into the house, or would a policeman have carelessly messed it up? It wouldn’t take much messing to destroy its meaning. Even if he’d puzzled it out, Sedona was a fair size town, and they were pretty well hidden where they were. No, she’d have to go it alone. Somehow Harv had to be disposed of first; the other two she’d worry about after. He’d done the driving. She’d slept a few hours in the front seat on the ride down, waking to find his hand on her knee. She resisted the quick flush of anger and the temptation to break his wrist. Other than the fact that it would crash the car, it wasn’t in character for Loni, so she contented herself with jabbing it with a nail file from Loni’s handbag. He’d gotten the message, but the look he gave said there’d be another time, when he wasn’t restricted by a steering wheel.
It was unlikely either of the others had slept coming down. On arrival, Frank had appeared from the rear of the ambulance. He and Dora announced they’d be taking naps, leaving her somewhat free to wander the property. Though she was certain one pair of eyes hadn’t closed. Riding in the front seat she didn’t know if Hudson had wakened; he was out when they’d arrived. Did that mean he’d been given a fresh dose of whatever was keeping him unconscious? She’d never tried to lift him; could she carry his 200 pounds even to the car?
Something on the highway reflected the sun. It was a disabled car. It had pulled well off the road almost opposite their driveway; the hood was up, and a woman was bending over looking at the engine. With a sudden rush of hope she recognized her dress she’d switched with Loni. Wally I love you! Be as rude as you like from now on! Where was he? Did she dare get out of sight of the house? Would someone come after her if she was no longer visible from one of its windows? She crossed the ridge so she was hidden and waved her arms hoping Loni would see her. But the girl didn’t raise her head. Time was not her friend. She ran toward the road. She’d almost reached it when a sibilant rattle stopped her. Snake. Where? It was coiled on a rock not three feet from her. She let the blanket in her arms slowly unfold. When it was full length and half width she held it in front of her, between herself and the snake, and with a smooth motion cast it over the scaly body and ran on. Her low-heeled shoes were full of sand and stones by the time she reached the road. Loni saw her and ran to the back seat door. Wally’s head appeared, and then he was out of the car.
“Where’s Hudson?”
“Hello, Wally.” Not `you’re okay, Cilla! We were really worried about you!’ All business Carver. “Hudson’s still unconscious in a room upstairs. There are three of them, and the third, Harv, is a load. But we’ve got to take them out now. They’re going to kill Hudson today.”
“The three of us are going to fight
“We can’t try the accident victim approach again.” Wally rubbed sleep from his eyes.
“If I could catch them by surprise, one by one, I think I could handle them.” Said thoughtfully, with no hint of braggadocio. Cilla knew her capabilities.
“But if you’re caught before you get them all...do they have guns?”
“I haven’t seen any, but it would be a mistake to assume they don’t.”
“Any ideas, Cilla?” asked Carver looking intently at her.
